


Sheltered

by WhoopsOK



Series: Damp [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Play Little Dean Winchester, Cursed Dean, Curses, Dean Hates Witches, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Forced Little Space, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 09:19:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11871285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoopsOK/pseuds/WhoopsOK
Summary: "Dean can’t stop bawling, gasping for breath where he’s crouched on the forest floor."(Dean gets cursed and forced into little space during a case.)





	Sheltered

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Inspired by a prompt from TheSkyWriter from eons ago. “Inspired by” because I’m not sure this is exactly what you had in mind, but I hope you like it anyway!

The witch was honestly trying to be kind.

The world needs its Winchesters and, logistically, she understood that; she didn’t want to kill Dean. She just wanted to… not get killed either, you know? Because Dean Winchester is a fucking _machine_. He’d been sprinting after her, _alone_ , through the woods, completely unafraid, like a hound on a wounded rabbit.

So she throws a handful of dust over her shoulder and shouts a spell; one made in modernity based on a long line of dedicated history and research, a spell just meant to mollify the hearer. It was _kindness,_ ok? All the spell was meant to do was put Dean in his most friendly mind-set, peaceful and quiet-like. And non-murderous.

She expected him to pause, maybe a little confused, but otherwise unharmed. She imagined him taking a deep breath and just— _enjoying_ _the moonlight_ , you know? Most of the people she’s used it on before giggled like a good high had just hit them and went down easily.

Dean Winchester seemed like that type of guy. She was more than content to leave him dizzy and giggling and _completely unharmed_ in the woods for his brother to collect after she hit the bricks.

What she had _not_ expected was for Dean to stop dead in his tracks, look at her, look around himself and then down _at_ himself in horror and proceed to start crying.

She watches in shock as Dean Winchester – the man currently known as the world’s _fiercest_ hunter – bursts into honest-to-goodness tears _._ Loud, ugly, snot-nosed _wailing_ as he scrubs at his face, a dark spot blossoming around his crotch before he collapses to his knees. _How_ was she supposed to expect that?

How _the fuck_ was she supposed to know her little happy spell would turn him into a toddler?

//

Dean can’t stop bawling, gasping for breath where he’s crouched on the forest floor.

He’s covering his face and screaming because everything, _everything_ about this is wrong. It’s dark and scary and little boys aren’t supposed to talk to strangers anyway, but then she _leaves_ and he’s _alone_ , and he’s not supposed to be outside by himself and it’s _dark_ and _he’s terrified._

“ _Sammy!_ ” he screams, because he needs his Big, he can’t do this. The thought hits in the next second that Cassie should be here, too, but babies can’t be alone in the dark, that’s too dangerous, where’s—? “ _Cassie!!!_ ” he shrieks, the word ending in big gulping sobs.

He hears a sound like the flutter of really big wings and he looks up to find Cassie and Sammy rushing towards him, their faces twisted with concern.

“Dean!?” Sammy exclaims, “Dean, what’s wrong?”

Dean latches onto him as soon as he gets close enough, burring his face in Sammy’s chest. “ _I wanna go home!_ ” he wails, “I don’t wanna be here anymore, please, _I’m scared!_ ”

There’s a moment when he feels Sammy freeze against him and he thinks with horror that Sammy’s going to be mad at him for not being brave enough. _Big_ Dean would be brave enough, Big Dean wouldn’t be scared _at all_ , but Dee is terrified, Dee wet himself like a _baby_ and he can’t stop _crying_ and _he’s going to be sick if Sammy is mad at—_

“Ok, buddy, you’re ok. Everything’s gonna be fine,” Sammy says shushing him and rubbing his back. Dean whimpers when Sam kisses the top of his head. “Don’t worry, we’re going home right now.”

And Dean knows something is wrong, but he knows Sammy isn’t lying to him either. He nods, smearing snot and tears along the front of Sammy’s shirt. “Ok,” he whines and lets Sammy pull him to his feet.

Cassie’s eyes are wide and scared when Dean looks at him, so he reaches for him. If Sammy’s here, they’re gonna be ok, no matter how dark and scary it is. Cassie comes into his arms instantly and Dean says, “It’s ok, now. Sammy’s taking us home. Nothing’s gonna get us.”

“Nothing at all,” Sam agrees quietly and Dean feels a million times better when Sammy wraps and arm around his shoulder and pulls out a flashlight as they start walking through the woods.

Sammy is taking them home.

//

Sam is doing his _damndest_ not to freak the fuck out.

Driving the impala so shortly after a case is basically a constant battle against a conditioned panic response; he _never_ drives unless Dean is too injured to do so himself. The only thing keeping his head on straight is the fact that Dean, though wet and a little frightened, is completely unharmed, sitting with Castiel in the back seat. Dean still looks a little cagey, too wound up to sleep, but getting into Baby seems to have calmed him down enough that just nuzzling Castiel’s hair or meeting Sam’s eyes makes him smile shyly.

Sam gives him a smile back every time, but when he meets Castiel’s eyes, he can _feel_ his mind whirring, too. Dean doesn’t ever unintentionally regress into Dee; their little space is all about freedom and stress relief, not necessity. Dean _certainly_ would never intentionally go down during a case. Something had to have made him and Sam has a tickling of understanding that that _something_ has to be magical.

_That’s_ why he’s freaking out. There are a lot of variables in what sort of spell could do this.

When they get back to the bunker, though, Dean’s entire demeanor brightens.

Leading him out of the car, Sam meets Castiel’s eyes briefly. “Let’s get washed up, ok?”

Castiel is light years away from little space, but he keeps himself small and quiet – accessible to Dean. He takes Dean’s hand when Dean offers it.

“Sorry I’m all wet, Sammy,” Dean says shamefacedly and Sam kisses him.

“Don’t worry about it, bud,” Sam says, peeling off the wet jeans and boxers. “I know it was really scary, I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“I don’t…” Dean’s face pinches and he scratches at his head, “I don’t understand…” he stops.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam says again, quickly, turning on the shower. He’ll worry enough for the both of them. “Sammy’s gonna handle it, ok?” he says and is warmed by the sleepy trust on Dean’s face.

They shower quickly, which Dean fusses about, but he’s tired enough that Sam can hustle him into his pajamas as though that’s the reason. “ _You’ve had a very long day!_ ”

Castiel, however, seems to be struggling to keep his composure. Sam buttons up Castiel’s onesie before blowing gently in his face to get his attention. “Can you feel it in him?” he asks softly.

“Feel me what?” Dean asks from where he had been doodling on the foggy mirror, then startles into giggles when Castiel reaches to tap his forehead. He catches Cassie by his wrist, “That tickles!”

Castiel smiles at him and blows a raspberry on his palm.

“Dean, can you go find Winkle for Cassie, please?” Sam says, “I want you to sleep in my room.”

Clearly heartened at being given a mission, Dean jumps up. “Oki, Sammy!” he exclaims, stumbling from the room. Castiel’s smile dims as soon as he rounds the doorframe.

“So?” Sam says.

Castiel’s face appears more confused than frightened now. “It doesn’t appear harmful,” he begins slowly, “It seems like it was just meant to make him _docile_ , but…”

Sam lets out a breath of understanding. “All of Dean’s ‘docility’ is in Dee.”

“Pretty much,” Castiel says with a quirk of his lips.

Speaking of which, Dean is back in the doorway, bright eyed with success as he offers Winkle to Castiel who cuddles him with a thin smile.

“Beddy-bye?” Dean asks.

Sam reaches up to ruffle Dean’s hair. “Yeah, buddy.”

They crawl into bed and Sam knows instantly this is truly _little_ Dee, because he goes down easier than he ever does without having run himself silly all day. “Can I be in the middle?” he asks sleepily. He sounds nervous and Sam knows he can tell something is wrong and it’s scaring him.

“Sure, buddy,” Sam says and Castiel crawls over and curls up against Dean’s back, one hand clenched in his shirt. Castiel is nervous, too, Sam can tell. “Did I ever tell you about that time I got stuck in the library bathroom?”

Dean giggles sleepily and shakes his head against Sam’s chest, “Uhn-uh.”

It only takes a few minutes of Sam’s low voice and the closeness of their bodies to lull Dean to sleep, snoring softly. At that, Sam meets Castiel’s gaze over Dean’s shoulder. They hold like that for a few more moments until Sam pulls a pillow from behind his back, shoving it into Dean’s arms as he rolls away. A minute later, Castiel mimics the motion with a blanket. Holding their breaths to see if Dean will stay asleep – he does, which is more alarming than it has any real right to be – eventually they creep out of the room.

Sam waits until they get to the library to attempt to speak, but then loses the words to the seeming enormity of their task. He looks over at Castiel, who is looking a little lost himself. “Well… Mollification spells,” he begins, glancing around, “There has to be a section on that.”

Castiel nods hesitantly. “Specifically magic that is not meant to harm the subject.”

“Right,” Sam agrees. “That’s a narrow enough window that we should be able to pin point it.” He doesn’t say anything about needles or haystacks, but judging by the way Castiel’s mouth quirks, he thinks it, too.

Hours later, they’re beginning to realize that the Men of Letter’s tomes are, while thorough, _quite_ old. They keep finding snippets of relevant things, anecdotal riffs that _could_ be similar, but they’re all mixed up in the spells for other things. For such a benign spell, it is truly a complex piece of work.

Sam’s eye has started twitching by the time he’s returning to the table with another stack of books. He looks down at them with a sigh before turning to Castiel. “So there’s no chance you can just _cure_ it, huh?”

“It’s not a disease, it’s a spell,” Castiel snaps, then seems to realize his tone. His face crinkles. “I’m—I can’t…”

“Hey, shh, it’s ok,” Sam says, stroking Castiel’s hair, but is surprised when Castiel jumps up and backs away from him.

“I am _not_ a baby right now!” he hisses under his breath, but his voice breaks. “I’m an _angel_ , I’m not supposed to be this _stupid_ and _helpless_ , I’m supposed to—”

“Hey, hey, Cas, _stop_ ,” Sam stands up, taking Castiel by his face. “You’re not helpless. You’re here with me and we’re going to figure this out. You said it yourself, the spell isn’t dangerous. Dean’s not hurt, he’s just _little._ It happened in a really scary way, but it’s not _bad_.” He kisses the worried quiver off Castiel’s mouth. “We can do this. _Tell_ me,” Sam says because if Castiel’s not little, then they have to be in this together.

“We can do this,” Castiel repeats, then closes his eyes, furrowing his brow. He presses his face against Sam’s throat, stealing a few moments of comfort. “I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

Sam closes his arms around him. “It’s ok, I know you’re frustrated.” Then he winces a little when he rubs a hand down his onesie. “I’ll try not to baby you too much right now. Do you want to take this off?”

“Thank you,” Castiel answers, some of the tension releasing in his shoulders. “But no, I can… It’s comforting.” He pulls back to kiss Sam briefly and they take a breath together. “And we should rest.”

Getting back into bed is easier than the production they put on to get out. Dean does wake up, but even then, he just makes an unhappy sound and tugs them close to him, this time, putting his back against Sam’s chest and wrapping Castiel in his arms. They’re tired enough that, even with all the stress, they manage to grab a few hours of sleep before Dean wakes up for the day.

Dean is cheery during breakfast, singing and swaying in his chair as he eats his cereal and feeds Castiel grapes, happily stroking his lips each time he does. Castiel is still carrying a bit of tension in his shoulders, but Dean can see it too and is doing his best to cheer him up even if he doesn’t quite understand why. It’s making Castiel wobbly, Sam can tell, like he wants so very badly to be a baby but feels like he shouldn’t.

“Sammy!” Dean exclaims standing up to kiss him.

Sam hugs him close. “Yeah, baby?”

“Can me and Cassie watch cartoons?”

That’s the best chance Sam is going to have to do any research before nap time. “Course, buddy. Nothing too exciting, ok?” He leans down to whisper in Dean’s ear, knowing full well Castiel can still hear him. “I think our baby is a little blue, so be gentle, ok?”

Dean nods seriously. “Ok, Sammy.” He watches as Sam walks over and gives Castiel a hug, kissing him briefly, stroking his hair.

“You’re ok, honey. I’ll be back as soon as I find something to fix that frown,” Sam says and Castiel’s head bobs in understanding. Castiel’s mission is to keep Dee calm while Sam finds a way to wake him up – that means he’s more than welcome to spend the day as Cassie. They can do this.

As a matter of fact, it turns out to be easier than expected.

Sam sits down to his laptop with a scratch pad filled with every relevant spell they’d found last night and a plan to just start scouring the pagan corners of the internet. However, after a few hours peppered with moments to go check in on his boys, he manages to break his way into some password protected blogs and the subject of a recent post – “ _SORRY I MADE YOUR BABY CRY_ ”– catches his eye. The fact that it was location tagged less than a mile from where they’d parked the impala last night makes him narrow his eyes. He should check the car for hex bags just to be safe.

For now, though, he opens the message.

It’s mostly rambling nonsense and shitty poetry until he gets half-way down and sees: _“I didn’t mean to scare him, I didn’t realize what it’d do. I think he’d be fine like that, I think he’d love being like that for you. But I know you want him back, even though he’d feel whack, and rhyming is hard so here’s the spell and the reverse and I never killed anyone, that was Deacon Glower, please leave me alone._” Sam clicks the hyperlinks and makes note of both spells to log in the library and also makes a note that Deacon Glower _had_ been their primary suspect until they learned there was a coven in town.

The ingredients are not entirely unusual and they have all of them on hand in the bunker. He wants to run it by Castiel before he tries to give it to Dean, hopefully in a way that is kinder than throwing dirt in his eyes. He finds them on the couch, curled up and conked out, Castiel mouthing sleepily on Dean’s thumb. Sam feels a twinge of remorse to have to wake him up, but Castiel blinks up at him as soon as he gets close, clearing the sleep from his eyes. When Sam shows him the list of ingredients and the incantation, he reads it with narrowed eyes before nodding slowly. “It won’t taste good, though,” he whispers, cooing soothingly when his voice wakes Dean.

Dean turns a grin up at Sam. “Sammy-Pants,” he mumbles, pulling Sam’s hair until he leans down to nuzzle Dean’s cheek.

“Deany-Pie,” Sam replies happily. With a cure in hand, it’s hard to feel bad with such a sweet boy looking up at him now. “You gonna sleep the day away or you wanna play with some playdoh while I make lunch?”

The answer is obvious by the way their eyes light up. Sam stands at the kitchen counter while Dean and Castiel sit on the floor, Castiel concentratedly rolling a line of nearly identical spheres while Dean mashes two separate colors together with childlike glee. The radio playing isn’t loud enough to cover up the sounds of Sam grinding herbs to powder, but the air is also full of garlic and spices from the spaghetti sauce. Between that, the fact that Dean is _deep_ in little space, and the Taylor Swift song on the radio, Dean isn’t really paying too much attention to what Sam is doing.

Sam takes a moment to consider spiking Dean’s meal, but he can’t quite make himself. He doesn’t know how fast this will act and he doesn’t like open variables like that. Dean has always been a rip-the-band-aid-off sort of guy, even when he’s a little and has to squeeze his eyes shut while it happens. Sam figures Dean is going to be upset to come up no matter what, so it’s better to do it the way he’d do it himself. He’ll gauge how Dean reacts after to decide how to make him feel better about his impromptu shove into and yank out of little space.

“Dee,” Sam calls, turning off the stovetop and mixing some powder into a spoonful of sauce.

“Yeah, Sammy?” Dean says, jumping up instantly when Sam motions him over. Castiel’s eyes go sad over his shoulder and Sam is going to plan something nice for them after all this, something big. Sam might just chase down that witch out of spite.

“Be a really big boy for me,” Sam says, holding out the spoon. “Swallow it all, ok?”

“….Ok, Sammy.” Dean blinks in mild confusion, but opens his mouth trustingly.

The sauce is thick and seasoned, but obviously not enough to disguise the flavor of something _extra_. Sam puts a finger on Dean’s lips when he looks like he might spit it out, watching as Dean struggles to swallow. As soon as he does, Sam whispers the spell and _something_ happens because Dean jerks back like he’s been hit.

“Dean!?” Castiel jumps to his feet, looking as distraught as Sam feels.

“I’m fine,” Dean says, but his face is red and he’s backed himself against the wall. “ _Shit,_ that was nasty. Did…?” he stops, the back of his hand pressed against his mouth.

Sam’s brow dips at the waver in his brother’s voice. “Dean…”

Dean scrubs at his mouth without looking up. “Did I…? _Fuck._ ” He looks like he’s threading the needle between shame and anger, both leaving him worryingly close to tears. “I went to little space on a _fucking case?_ ”

“Dean, there’s no reason to be _embarrassed_ ,” Castiel says with confusion, “You didn’t do anything wrong.” He stops halfway through a motion to offer comfort when Dean whips around to look at him.

“I went _little_ on a _case,_ ” he intones, like Castiel is not seeing a bomb in the room.

Sam isn’t seeing it either. “You were _cursed_ on a case, which has happened before,” he says gently, “And this was definitely the most pleasant curse I’ve ever witnessed.”

Dean lets that simmer for a second, but then his eyes water. “I could’ve gotten… Sammy, someone _made me_ _little_. That’s supposed to…” He rubs up and down his arms, like he’s trying to wipe something off. “That’s just for _you two_.”

Oh. That’s the bomb.

“Oh, Dee, come here,” Sam says. He waits until Dean curls into his arms and Castiel instinctively crowds Dean’s back before he speaks again, “I know it was very scary that someone else saw you little, especially when you didn’t want them to. It makes me mad, too, nobody has any right to force this out of you.”

“But they _can._ ”

“We know what happened now,” Sam reminds him softly, “If someone tries to throw dust in your face while shouting something spooky, hold your breath.” He smiles when Dean snorts. “You know I’m not mad _at_ you, right? I’m not ashamed of you, either, I love you just as much. You’re still my little boy, nothing and nobody _can_ change that, understand?”

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean says.

“And I still love my Dee and trust him to look after me,” Castiel says and from the sound of it, he’s got Dean’s shirt in his mouth.

“Ok, Cassie,” Dean says and unfolds his arms from between them to pull them both into a hug. “I love you guys, too.”

“Good boy,” Sam kisses his temple when he shudders. “How are you feeling right now?”

“…I’m still feelin’ kinda small,” Dean says against Sam’s shoulder after a moment.

Sam almost sighs in relief at that. Last thing he wants is for Dean to associate being little with being scared. “Then don’t fight it,” he says, “You’re home safe, Dee, take that for what it is.”

They stand there together for a moment before Dean takes a big breath and stands upright. His eyes are still rimmed a little pink and his lashes are damp, but his face is bright and hopeful, if a little nervous. “Did you make the curly noodles for the spaghettis?” he asks, causing Castiel to look at him the exact same way.

Sam laughs brightly and kisses their little faces because, yes. Yes, he certainly did.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading… I hope you get home safely and eat something yummy!
> 
> (Funny fact, apparently “concentratedly” is not a word in some circles, but I will adverb-ify whatever I please. Also, oh dear, this is getting obnoxiously long. With the WIPs it’s almost 70k, what a monster, I didn’t mean to do this…)


End file.
